


I Wanna Be Close to You

by shions_heart



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: (deaths are mentioned as a past occurance only), (in the second chapter), Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Amnesia, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood Drinking, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Getting Back Together, M/M, Minor Character Death, Post-Canon, Smut, Vampire Kozume Kenma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-07-11 11:58:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7049710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shions_heart/pseuds/shions_heart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When humans are turned, they lose all memory of their past lives.</p><p>After a vampire war that started in Tokyo and spread throughout Japan, those vampires that fought on the side of the humans are allowed to join what's left of society. Under heavy surveillance, they set up shops for volunteers to feed them and experience the high from their venom.</p><p>Kozume Kenma remembers nothing of his life before his turning, but when Kuroo Tetsurou walks into his coven's shop, everything changes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I had really terrible writer's block with my commissions and OMAM . . . so I wrote this instead. /)u(\
> 
> I hope you enjoy it!

 

 

but i love your feet  
only because they walked  
upon the earth and upon  
the wind and upon the waters,  
until they found me.

\--pablo neruda

* * *

 

 

 

He has sad eyes.

That's the first thing Kenma notices about the new customer. He comes into the shop with his hands in his pockets, shoulders lowered as though he has the weight of the world on them. His eyes are dark, and it's only when the light from the overhanging fixtures illuminates his face that Kenma sees the gold shimmering in his irises.

All windows to the shop are covered by thick black curtains. The sun doesn't kill instantly, but it weakens. The receptionist at the front of the shop is human, unaffected by the sun's rays that filter through each time the door opens. Although the shop's hours extend to midnight, they open at 15:00, in order to catch anyone leaving work who might want to stop by. Above the door is a bell; that's what alerts Kenma to the newcomer's presence. There's something about his face, half-hidden behind a bed-head of hair, that seems familiar; though Kenma's sure he's never seen this man before.

Koushi leans over, following Kenma's gaze. "Who's that?"

"I don't know," Kenma admits.

"Mm, he looks tasty. Mind if I have him?"

Kenma's stomach twists in protest, but Koushi is his friend, and he's older. Stronger. Turned near the beginning of the war, as opposed to near the end the way Kenma was. Kenma doesn't remember the war. He doesn't remember anything about his old life. His ID said his name was Kozume Kenma and that he was twenty-four years old and lived in Tokyo. But that's the only thing the coven found on him when they rescued him from Katsuki's army.

"Hello," the receptionist greets the man. "Do you have an appointment or are you a walk-in?"

"A walk-in," the man replies, but he seems distracted. His eyes roam past the front desk to the feeding room beyond.

Two security guards (also human, sanctioned by the Tokyo Police Department) stand flanking the entrance. It's their job to make sure none of the feedings get out of hand. The room is long, with an aisle down the center, separating the room in half. On either side against the wall are dozens of small, private chambers, divided by crimson rice paper partitions. In each of these sits a chair and a futon, along with a tea cabinet. The tea is for the customers, to help them relax. All the vampires are coached on proper tea service. Koushi is one of the best of the new arrivals.

Kenma stands just inside his own feeding area now, peering out from behind his partition. Koushi left his to stand beside him, and a few other curious heads peek out down the aisle. There's whispering, voices pitched low yet excited. New volunteers are always interesting. Most humans steer clear of the shop out of fear. Others have tried to attack it, throwing bricks through the windows or spray painting "Bloodsuckers" across the front.

But others, kind souls who want to help in exchange for the coven's assistance in defeating Katsuki's soldiers, and those who simply wish to experience the high of vampire venom, come to the shop regularly, feeding the coven to keep them alive.

So, which was this one? A junkie or a Samaritan?

"Have you been here before?" the receptionist asks. She has a calm and reassuring air about her. With brown eyes and brown hair cut short around her face, she's not conventionally beautiful, but she has the type of face one can trust.

Kenma doesn't know her name, but he likes her smile.

She gives one now, and the man turns back to look at her. He shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. "No, this is my first time."

"There's no need to be nervous. I assure you that the procedure is perfectly safe. I'm sure you've read our pamphlet, but once inside you will select a coven member to feed. They will prepare you a tea which has an herbal relaxant. The actual feeding won't hurt. You'll feel a sharp sting at the first incision, but then the venom takes hold, and you'll be floating in the clouds. The members know when to stop, and there's extra security for your protection. Do you have any questions?"

The man shakes his head.

"May I have your name?"

"Kuroo Tetsurou."

Kenma blinks. That name with that face . . . it feels like he's missing something. He's never cared much about his memory loss. The coven is his family now, and since he can't remember anything from before, he doesn't feel the ache of loss, and it seems like too much of an effort to go searching for a past he can never be a part of again.

But this man, this Kuroo Tetsurou, with his crazy hair, and his dark gold eyes . . . Kenma feels a pang deep inside his chest. A single word rises to the forefront of his mind.

_Mine._

Koushi approaches Kuroo when he enters the feeding room. He smiles, welcomes him, hazel eyes sparkling pleasantly. He lays his hand on Kuroo's shoulder, and Kenma's gut clenches. Before Koushi can solicit him, Kenma steps forward.

The general rule is for them to allow the customer to choose whichever coven member they want, in order to make the feeding as pleasant as possible. Kenma disregards that. Instead, he wraps his fingers around Kuroo's wrist and pulls him toward his feeding chamber. To his surprise, Kuroo follows him willingly, without a single word.

Once they're alone in the chamber (or as alone as they can be with paper-thin walls), Kenma releases him.

"I, uh, I like your hair," Kuroo says then. He sounds nervous.

Kenma reaches up to touch the blonde tips of his black hair. When he first woke up, the bottom half of his hair was bleached. He let it grow out, only trimming it occasionally, and now all that's left is a couple centimeters of blonde where the tips brush his shoulders.

Disregarding the compliment, he takes a step back to study Kuroo. He appears strong, muscles well-defined beneath his tight black shirt. His jeans are old, with ragged holes in the knees, and his sneakers are scuffed and worn. There are three thin scars on his right forearm, curving down from his elbow to his wrist.

Kenma reaches out to touch them lightly. Something quivers in the back of his mind. He feels like he should know where these came from, but he doesn't. He doesn't know anything about this man. So why does he feel like his heart would pound faster if it could, standing here in front of him?

Kuroo glances down at the scars. "I got those during the war," he says, turning his gaze back onto Kenma's face. "Those bloodsuckers took something from me. I tried to get it back but . . ."

Kenma steps back. " _I'm_ a bloodsucker," he says coolly. "You have a lot~ of nerve coming to a place like this and using a word like that."

Turning away, he opens the tea cabinet, pulling out the tray and setting it on top. He plugs in the portable stove with its single burner, pouring water from a pitcher into the teapot.

"Sorry, I didn't mean . . . I'm not really sure how to . . . I've never been around any bl—vampires before. Not ones I wasn't fighting, at least." Kuroo seems apologetic, as he takes a seat on the futon.

"Why are you here then?" Kenma asks, turning to look at him while waiting for the water to boil.

Kuroo looks down at his hands, hanging between his knees. He folds his fingers together, sighing, before rubbing the back of his neck and lifting his head to meet Kenma's gaze. His expression shifts, softening, and Kenma catches that sad look in his eyes once more.

"I have nightmares," he says quietly. "I just want to forget for a little while."

Kenma studies him. Vampires don't really need sleep. They rest to allow the blood they drink to renew their energy, eyes closed, during the day when most humans are working. He knows sometimes they dream, or linger in that place between dreaming and wakefulness where nothing seems quite real. They say it's then that they can usually catch snippets of memory, something of their past lives. A smell, a taste, a sound, a face, a name.

Kenma hasn't tried it. He doesn't want get a glimpse of something he'll never be able to fully recover. He hasn't heard of any vampire that remembers his or her past life completely. So what's the point in dabbling in half-formed memories? Being able to hold just a tiny piece, watching the rest of it slip out of your grasp, seems cruel.

To Kenma, that seems like a nightmare.

"Take off your shirt," Kenma says, turning back to the kettle as it begins whistling. He turns off the heat, taking the kettle and pouring the water into the teapot. He can hear rustling behind him, as Kuroo does as he's bid. He stays quiet, not offering any awkward attempts at conversation, which is nice. Sometimes his customers get nervous and start to babble. It's annoying.

He pours the water into the teacup, tossing the excess water back into the kettle to be disposed of later. He then pours the water from the cup into the pot and adds the leaves. He looks down at the pot as he waits for the tea to steep the correct amount of time. He can hear Kuroo's breathing behind him. It sounds somewhat shallow, an indication of his anxiety. Well, he'll relax soon enough.

Once the tea is ready, he pours it into the teacup and then turns to hand the cup to Kuroo. He takes it with a nod of thanks, warm fingers lingering against Kenma's a second longer than they need to. Kenma quickly withdraws his hand, going to sit in the chair opposite him.

His chest is bare now, revealing those taut muscles Kenma could only see the outlines of before. He's lean, but his strength is evident. Like a panther, sleek but deadly. Kenma can easily see him as a fighter. He wonders absently how many of Katsuki's vampires he killed.

It's only when a few minutes have passed that he realizes Kuroo is staring back at him. When Kuroo notices Kenma's shift in gaze, his expression becomes guarded.

"Don't worry, I'm only trying to decide how long it would take to properly drain you," Kenma says, offering him a smile that displays his elongated canines to their full effect.

Kuroo doesn't flinch. "Is that what you want to do?" he asks plainly.

Kenma closes his mouth abruptly. He frowns faintly. He'd only wanted to have a little fun, but this man doesn't scare easily. He doesn't appear afraid to die either. Standing, Kenma crosses over to him. Lightly, he places his fingers against Kuroo's jugular. He can feel the man's rapid pulse, though his gaze remains steady. Kenma's frown deepens.

"Do you have a death wish or something?" he asks, not sure why he feels so annoyed by that prospect.

Kuroo leans into his touch, just slightly, but it's enough for Kenma to notice, as his thumb brushes against the underside of Kuroo's jaw.

"I think . . . if you were to kill me, you'd do it gently," he says softly. "Doesn't seem like a bad way to go." He gives Kenma a crooked smile, but Kenma's chest aches, as he watches pain flicker through those dark gold eyes.

"I'm not going to kill you," Kenma says, shaking his head slightly.

Kuroo's smile widens. "I trust you."

He seems completely sincere, which confuses Kenma. Disoriented, he stands there a moment longer before taking the teacup away from Kuroo and setting it back on the cabinet.

"Sit still," he says then, moving to kneel behind him on the futon.

Kuroo doesn't even flinch, as Kenma rests his cold hands on the man's warm shoulders. Kenma's stomach flips strangely. Being here behind Kuroo feels familiar, like he's done this before. And of course, he has, to dozens of patrons. He always feeds the same way. But something about this scene in particular gives him a sense of déjà vu. Hesitantly, he runs his hands slowly down over Kuroo's shoulders to his biceps and then back up again.

Goosebumps appear along Kuroo's arms, but he doesn't shy away. If anything, he seems to move closer, leaning back against Kenma's chest. Perhaps it's simply the tea relaxing his muscles, or perhaps it's something else. Kenma isn't sure, but it's making him nervous.

"It's okay," Kuroo murmurs softly then. "I'm here for you."

Kenma feels like crying and it frustrates him, because he doesn't know _why_.

With more force than is necessary, he sinks his teeth into the side of Kuroo's neck, avoiding the pulsating jugular with practiced ease. Kuroo stiffens, but Kenma doesn't wait for him to get used to the venom before he starts drinking.

The blood is warm, sweet. Delicious. Kenma drinks, gripping Kuroo's shoulders in his hands tightly, but Kuroo doesn't try to escape. He smells like spring. Like sunlight and rain on freshly mowed grass. Kenma's not sure how, but he does. He starts to lose himself in that smell, in this taste. His chest aches. He feels a yearning deep inside him, and one thought comes to his mind.

_Home._

He tastes something sharp and foreign and leans back abruptly. His eyes burn, and when he wipes at them, his fingers come away bloody.

Is he actually . . . crying?

Vampires cry blood; he's seen it before. But never has he experienced it himself.

He doesn't cry.

Kuroo's turning around, reaching for him, but Kenma slaps his hands away and stands quickly. "Go. _Leave_ ," he says sharply, wrapping his arms around himself.

Normally customers are given time to allow some of the effects of the venom to wear off, but Kenma doesn't care about that right now. He wants this man gone. He can feel something inside of him breaking, and he doesn't like it. He doesn't _want_ it.

Kuroo stands, albeit shakily, and pulls his shirt back on. It's only then that Kenma remembers that he was supposed to dress and clean the wound. It's too late now, though. Kuroo's already moving aside the partition and walking toward the exit.

Koushi tips his head around the wall to give Kenma a curious look.

"Are you okay?"

Kenma drops onto the futon, covering his face with his hands. He shudders, feeling sick.

"I don't want to see him again," he tells his friend, voice annoyingly thick.

"Understood," Koushi says quietly. "Do you want me to stay?"

Kenma shakes his head. He wants to be left alone, to sort out his thoughts, to unravel this tightness inside him. He's sure he can, he just . . . has to forget.

It doesn't work, and the next morning, as he rests between his night job at the next-door bakery and the time when he must begin feeding, he remembers.

They come in flashes, like the others talk about. He sees a bluish glow of light as though from a laptop or TV. He hears the squeak of shoes against a gym floor. He smells apple pie, freshly baked, placed in front of him by a woman's hands. Kenma wants to reach out and take those hands, hold them to his face, but as soon as they're there, they're gone.

He hears a voice, a man's voice, as though from far away. He can't quite recognize it. He feels like he should, but it sounds garbled, like he's receiving it over a broken signal. What he _can_ hear is the emotion trembling beneath the words. It's panicked, cracking in desperation.

"Kenma! No, _no! KENMA!_ "

Kenma awakens with a start. Koushi's standing over him, hazel eyes worried.

"Are you okay?" he asks. "You were whimpering."

"No, I wasn't," Kenma protests, even as he sits up. Already he can feel the memories fading away, lost in the haze of his dream-state. Only one thing remains: the sound of his name, a muffled echo that lingers around the edges of his mind.

"If you say so," Koushi says, with a tentative grin.

Kenma frowns. _That's wrong,_ he thinks. _You're supposed to argue with me. You're supposed to say 'Yes, you were.'_ Then he shakes the thought away, as it doesn't make sense.

Kenma turns onto his side, squinting at his clock. "It's 0600," he says. "I've only been resting an hour."

"I know, but I'm meeting Sawamura-san before has to go into work," Koushi says. "Cover for me?"

Kenma props himself up on his elbow. "You're meeting him again?"

Koushi shrugs delicately. "He's amusing."

"He's weird."

"Because he doesn't want to feed us? He doesn't have to, you know."

"That's the only reason why any of them show any interest in us. To get high."

Koushi tilts his head, grinning faintly. "He gets high on our titillating conversation," he says, wiggling his eyebrows.

Kenma wrinkles his nose. "Ew."

Koushi laughs, turning toward the door. He stops before he exits, though, turning back to look at Kenma. "Speaking of titillating, you should rethink your decision to ban that hot bed-head guy from yesterday."

Kenma frowns. "Why?"

"He left you a pretty massive tip. Enough of those, and you could get that game you wanted."

Kenma does enjoy games. But does he enjoy them enough to risk seeing Kuroo again? To risk experiencing those weird, unpleasant feelings? He's not sure if it's worth it.

"Just think about it," Koushi says, waving before leaving the room.

Kenma falls back against his pillow with a sigh, folding both arms over his face.

 

 

 

 

 

It turns out he doesn't have much time to think about it, because Kuroo is there again the next day, at the same time (just before twilight). He stands in front of the receptionist, a faint frown on his face.

"What do you mean I'm _banned_?" he asks.

Kenma smells him first. That warm, safe feeling enters his chest, followed by panic.

"I mean what I said, sir," the receptionist says flatly. "One of our members requested it."

"But I didn't _do_ anything."

Kuroo sounds lost, desperate, and Kenma feels a pang of guilt. Biting his lip, he inches toward the front room, conscious of the security guards watching him. They stiffen, hands moving toward the silver-tipped batons at their belts. Silver burns, so Kenma remains where he is, just inside the entryway.

Kuroo must sense his presence, because he turns and meets his gaze. His eyes widen.

"Kenma?"

Kenma curls his hands into fists. "How do you know my name?" he asks.

"I asked," Kuroo admits, gesturing toward the receptionist. "I had to know who to tip." He bites his lip then, arm lowering. "Are you the one that banned me? Did I do something wrong yesterday? You freaked out but I . . ." He shakes his head. "Whatever it was, I'm sorry."

"Why are you here?" Kenma asks. "You haven't fully healed yet." He can smell the dried blood on him and wrinkles his nose. Old blood does _not_ taste good.

"I wanted to apologize," he says, taking a step forward.

The receptionist rises from her seat, making to step around her desk, but Kenma lifts a hand, holding her off. She frowns, but remains where she is. Kuroo glances at her, then back at Kenma. He steps forward again, making no sudden movements, as he cautiously approaches the entry-way. He stands just beyond it, as though there's an invisible barrier between them, created by the security guards.

Kenma looks up at him, tense. If his heart still worked, he's sure it'd be in his throat by now. He looks at Kuroo's arm, the three long scars there. His head pounds. He knows he's forgetting something important. It's right there, but he can't grasp it. Lifting his gaze, he looks into Kuroo's face, at the haggard lines, the sad eyes. There are dark circles beneath them, and Kenma remembers what he said about nightmares.

For some reason, he feels the urge to protect this man. _Mine,_ he thinks. _This one is mine._

He takes a step back, gesturing into the feeding room. After a moment's hesitation, Kuroo steps past the threshold, following Kenma down the aisle to his chamber. There are whispers again. Kenma can feel the eyes of dozens of vampires on them. He ducks his head, hiding his face behind his hair and wishing they'd look somewhere else.

"Hey Kenma, can I have a taste when you're done?" A soft snicker sounds from his right.

Kenma turns to give the speaker a glare. The vampire grins back at him, sticking his tongue out and flicking it, like he's licking the air. The steel ball of his tongue ring glistens in the low lamp-light. Kenma bares his fangs, hissing softly.

The vampire puts his hands up, surrendering with a grin.

Kenma reaches back and grabs Kuroo's wrist, pulling him into his chamber. As he closes the partition, he can feel Kuroo's gaze on him. He's glad he's wearing his hoodie today. Extra protection. Against what, he's not sure. But he feels safer.

"Where did you get that?" Kuroo asks, and when Kenma turns around, he sees that Kuroo's staring at his hoodie.

Kenma glances down at it. He's had it ever since he was turned, he thinks. He was wearing it when he woke up in the coven.

"I don't know," he admits, looking up at Kuroo then. "I don't remember."

"You don't remember anything of your life before . . . you turned, do you?" Kuroo asks, and his lips twitch in what might be a smile but seems more like a grimace.

Kenma shakes his head. "Sometimes we get . . . flashes. But nothing to pull the pieces together."

"Do you want to remember?"

Kenma crosses his arms tightly over his chest. "I don't know," he says honestly. "Sometimes I think it's better that I don't. I'm not human anymore. Remembering will only show me what I can't have." He frowns. "It'd hurt too much, I think."

Kuroo steps forward. Automatically, Kenma retreats. Kuroo stops, chewing on his lip.

"But what if . . . what if there's someone from your past who's looking for you? Wouldn't you want to remember them? To be with them again?"

Kenma's chest shivers. He looks away. "Things wouldn't be the same."

"But wouldn't it be better than nothing?"

That desperation has returned to his voice. Kenma turns back, studying him.

"You said the vampires took something from you. That something was a person, wasn't it?"

Kuroo hesitates before nodding. "Yes."

"Is that why you're visiting shops? To find them?"

"I . . ." Kuroo looks somewhat like a deer in the headlights.

Kenma feels a twinge of annoyance. He doesn't want another vampire to have Kuroo. He doesn't know _why_ , but he doesn't. He's claimed Kuroo. Whoever he's looking for won't remember him, so if Kenma takes him, then they'll be none the wiser. Besides, they're probably dead if Katsuki's vampires took them. Reaching up, he sets his hand on Kuroo's chest, pushing him back toward the futon. Kuroo moves easily, his face still pale, eyes blown wide.

"You taste good," Kenma says. "And I'm hungry. We can forget about yesterday."

Kuroo sits down heavily on the futon. "I don't want to make you cry again," he says, worry lines appearing on his forehead.

Kenma shakes his head. "You won't," he says, stepping toward the tea cabinet.

Kuroo's hand grabs the back of his hoodie. Kenma pauses, glancing back at him.

"You don't have to make the tea," he says softly, meeting Kenma's gaze.

"It's to help you relax."

"I don't need it."

Kenma's skeptical. Most humans who come here, no matter how often they do, need the tea. Even if you're ready for the feeling of someone biting into your neck and drinking your blood, it's impossible to not tense up, which turns the blood sour with extra adrenaline.

But Kuroo tugs on the edge of Kenma's hoodie, drawing him closer, and Kenma finds himself moving away from the cabinet, approaching the futon. Kuroo releases him in order to pull his shirt off, setting it aside. There's a gauze pad tapped to the wound from yesterday. Kenma reaches out to touch it lightly.

"Most customers wait to heal before they return," he says pointedly.

"I came to apologize," Kuroo says, his eyes fixed on Kenma's face. He grins then, crookedly. Kenma's stomach flutters. "You're the one who dragged me back here."

Kenma makes a face, but he can't exactly _deny_ it. Embarrassed, and annoyed at being embarrassed, he quickly moves around Kuroo to settle on his knees behind him on the futon. He sets his hands on Kuroo's shoulders, and then hesitates.

_This won't be like last time. Whatever that was, it won't happen again._

"You have to stay relaxed, otherwise the blood won't taste good," Kenma tells him. He finds his eyes wandering down the length of Kuroo's back. The muscles there appear strong. He briefly wonders what it'd be like to lick them. Then he quickly returns his mind to the task at hand, more embarrassment squirming in his stomach.

"Roger," Kuroo says, and he sounds amused.

Kenma rolls his eyes, before grabbing handful of Kuroo's hair and pulling his head to the side. He chooses a spot on the opposite side he did before. He's surprised that Kuroo actually keeps his word and remains relaxed, even as Kenma sinks his fangs into his skin.

The blood is as sweet as he remembered. He closes his eyes, relishing it. Again his senses are assaulted by the smell of spring, the warm comfort of home. His grip on Kuroo's shoulders tightens, as he struggles to keep his emotions under control. Since he's expecting it, he doesn't feel the effects as strongly. No tears burn his eyes, and he's able to relax, sucking gently.

Kuroo's breathing is quiet, slow and even. He sags back against Kenma, and he has to adjust his grip, wrapping his arms around Kuroo's chest to hold him upright. He pulls away, feeling sluggish, drunk on the warm blood coursing through him. Without thinking, he runs his tongue along the bite mark, smearing through the pinpricks of blood that welled up.

Kuroo shudders. "Kenma," he murmurs.

Kenma's not sure why that resonates with him, but he feels a tremor in his chest. He tightens his grip on Kuroo, licking his tongue up the side of Kuroo's neck to his ear. Very lightly, he traces the curve of it with the tip of his tongue. His skin tastes salty, but not unpleasantly so.

"Kenma," Kuroo stirs in his arms, trying to sit up. Kenma holds him fast, sucking gently on his ear. "Kenma. Kenma, stop."

But Kenma doesn't want to stop. He wants more. He wants to wrap himself up in this taste, in this smell. His chest aches. It's like there's a hollow piece of his heart that he never really noticed before. But being around Kuroo, he feels it keenly. He wants to fill it. No, he _needs_ to fill it. And Kuroo seems like the key.

He feels a sharp pain on his scalp. He pulls away with a hiss, realizing Kuroo pulled his hair. He frowns, as Kuroo stumbles to his feet, backing up and tripping over the chair. He lands heavily in it, holding up his hand as if to ward Kenma off.

"I said . . . I said stop," he says, struggling to form words in his drugged state.

Kenma kneels on the bed, fangs bared in annoyance. "Why?" he asks, gripping the sheet of the futon in his hands. "Didn't it feel good?"

"I . . . yes, but—"

"I chose you," Kenma says, sliding off the bed and standing. His body still feels warm, and he licks the blood off his lips. He approaches the chair, reaching out to grab the back of it, leaning forward so his face is close to Kuroo's. He can see the way his throat constricts, as he swallows hard. He can see the nervous flick of his tongue against his lower lip. Kenma's eyes linger there a moment, before moving up to Kuroo's eyes.

He tilts his head, not expecting the pain there. He expected panic, fear, but he sees agony. Like it was difficult for Kuroo to tear himself away, but he did. He even risked hurting Kenma to do it. Kenma frowns, his chest tightening.

"You want to get away from me this badly?" he asks quietly. "You make no sense. You come here, allegedly to feed me, yet when I make you feel good you run away. Why?"

Kuroo's breathing has grown quick and shallow. His heartbeat is pounding wildly, but again he doesn't smell of fear.

"I . . . I _can't_ ," he says hoarsely.

"Why?" Kenma asks again.

"It wouldn't be right," Kuroo says, biting his lip then so hard the skin finally breaks, staining his teeth pink.

Kenma resists the urge to lick the blood off, leaning back instead. "Because of your someone?" he asks flatly.

Kuroo nods, and Kenma feels a ugly twist in his chest. He decides he hates this someone. Kuroo is _his_ now. This someone can fuck off.

"They're probably dead, you know," he says without inflection.

"They're not," Kuroo says softly yet with full confidence.

Kenma takes a step back, turning away. "Go look for them then."

Kuroo stands, gripping the back of the chair to steady himself. "Are you going to ban me again?" he asks quietly.

Kenma glances sidelong at him through his hair. "Are you going to come back?"

"I'd like to."

Kenma wrinkles his nose. As much as he'd like to be stubborn and refuse to see Kuroo again, something inside him tells him he shouldn't. That Kuroo _is_ the key to filling the hole inside him, and he'll need more time with him to figure out why. Besides, he likes his taste, his smell. The way he reminds Kenma somehow of home.

"Fine," he says. "Whatever."

Kuroo grins crookedly, and he reaches up toward Kenma's face. Kenma shies away instinctively. Kuroo lowers his hand.

"I'll see you later then."

Kenma crosses his arms over his chest without replying, still angry with Kuroo for pushing him away. After the man leaves, Koushi peeks in, eyebrows raised.

"What happened this time?"

"Nothing," Kenma snaps, not wanting to talk about it, embarrassed by his actions now that he's had time to cool down from the heat of the moment.

Koushi grins. "You like him, don't you?"

"Shut up." Kenma walks over and closes the partition in Koushi's face, hearing his laugh from behind the crimson paper.

 

 

 

 

That morning, as Koushi moves quietly about getting ready for his meeting with Sawamura-san, Kenma watches him from his bed. As Koushi fusses with his hair, Kenma wonders what it's like to like a human that much. It seems like a waste. Unless Koushi has plans to turn Sawamura, their relationship can't progress very far into the future. What would be the point? Sawamura will die eventually, and Koushi will live on. It seems cruel.

"You really like this guy, huh?" he asks softly.

Koushi starts, turning to look down at him. "Kenma-kun. I didn't realize you were awake."

Kenma stares up at him, waiting for an answer. Koushi looks down at his shirt, brushing off an invisible piece of lint.

"Yes," he admits finally.

"He's going to die, you know."

Koushi grimaces, turning back to give Kenma faint frown. "I'm not ignorant to what's at stake, Kenma. I'm not planning on pursuing anything with him. I just . . . enjoy his company. That's all."

"Okay."

"He . . . reminds me of someone."

Kenma grows still, staring up at Koushi without blinking.

"It's not really ah . . . it's more of a feeling than a memory. He makes me feel . . . warm. Comfortable. Like, I'm at home with him." He shakes his head quickly, as though clearing it. "But, anyway, you'll cover for me, yeah?"

Kenma nods, not liking the tangled knot that's grown in the pit of his stomach. Koushi wiggles his fingers in a wave of goodbye, before swiftly moving out the door.

 

 

 

 

 

The days grow into weeks, which turn into months, and Kuroo continues to visit the shop. Kenma's careful not to repeat what happened, keeping his feeding clinical and to the point. Days stretch between Kuroo's visits, and Kenma assumes he's still searching for his "someone," and while this annoys him, he knows better than to say anything. He doesn't want to have Kuroo push him away again.

Instead, they don't talk much. Sometimes, while Kenma patches Kuroo's bite marks, Kenma will ask questions about the war. He finds out that he did fight against Katsuki's army, and that, before the coven stepped in to assist, Tokyo was in chaos. People were taken, turned to become more soldiers. Katsuki was determined to take over the entire country. They struck by night, targeting those too weak to fight at first, then branching out to anyone they could find.

Kuroo admits that some people chose to die before being forced to turn. The resistance fighters carried capsules filled with poison. He'd lost a close friend that way. Taken by Katsuki's bloodsuckers, he broke the capsule and ingested the poison before they could turn him. Kuroo changes the subject after this story, and Kenma can hear the tears caught in his throat.

He feels somewhat guilty for bringing up such an obviously painful time, but he's afraid to venture into Kuroo's childhood and time before the war, not knowing what might trigger something in his own memory. And he's afraid of broaching the subject of the "someone," though he realizes with time that Kuroo never brings them up either. Kenma hopes, selfishly, that Kuroo will start to forget about them.

And when the mornings come, Koushi continues to sneak out to see Sawamura, and Kenma's dreams are plagued with flashes of memory. He sees a red jacket, a shock of orange hair; he feels the sensation of a warm body wrapped around him, fingers interlocking with his; and he smells apples and cinnamon. That's one constant that remains throughout the flashes.

He always feels like there's more, something that he's still missing, but every time he wakes up it shifts through his mind like sand through a sieve, and he's left with just the fragments.

 

 

 

 

 

Then one morning, three months and two weeks after Kuroo first walked into the shop, something changes. He walks him down the aisle to his chamber as always, doing his best to ignore the resentful looks some of the others in his coven have started giving him.

"How come you never share that dark, handsome human, Kenma-kun?"

"Yeah, you shouldn't be so selfish."

"I'll give you 3000 yen for a taste."

Kenma rebuffs all of them. He doesn't care what others think. Kuroo is his. No one is going to take him from him. He'll bite their hands off if they try. Kuroo just seems amused by it all.

"You're really possessive, huh?" he says, settling down on the futon and pulling off his shirt. Now that he's allowing Kenma to tend to the bite marks, they heal nicely, the scars barely visible except to a trained eye. Kenma tries to stay in the same spot each time, but sometimes he finds his lips wandering. It's difficult to always remain in control.

Kenma narrows his eyes slightly, as he turns away from closing the partition. "Do you have a problem with it?" he asks.

Kuroo grins. "Not really. Makes me feel important. Everyone wants a taste of Kuroo." He grin shifts into a smirk.

Kenma rolls his eyes. "They can't have you," he says, and in a bold move that surprises him, he places his hand on Kuroo's chest and shoves him down onto the futon. _You're mine._

Kuroo's eyes widen, as Kenma leans over him, straddling his waist. Placing one hand on the futon beside Kuroo's head, Kenma grabs a handful of Kuroo's hair, forcing his head back. He can see the rapid beat of his pulse beneath his skin. He licks his lips, knowing that pulse means blood.

"Kenma," Kuroo says softly. It doesn't sound quite like a protest, but Kenma pauses, annoyance creeping into him.

"Don't tell me to stop," he says, eyeing Kuroo's neck, his fangs elongating with thirst.

Still, he waits until Kuroo closes his eyes and sighs. "Okay. I won't."

Kenma's not sure what this means, but he doesn't take the time to worry about it. He descends on Kuroo's neck, biting down. Rich, sweet blood floods into his mouth, and Kenma closes his eyes, suppressing a moan. Like this he can feel Kuroo's heart pounding against his chest; he can feel the warmth of his body beneath him. And after a moment, Kuroo's hands move to his back, pulling him closer.

Kenma drinks deeply, a small whimper escaping his throat. It's embarrassing, but Kuroo tastes so _good_. He's never had another customer with this same taste. After a few minutes, Kuroo's hand moves, burying itself in Kenma's hair.

"Kenma," Kuroo mutters, and the noise he makes afterward is similar to a moan.

Kenma wants to continue. He wants to cover Kuroo's torso with bites, to fully claim him as his. He wants to kiss him. To lose himself in Kuroo entirely, intimately. But then he remembers Kuroo's "someone," and he pulls away. He sits back on Kuroo's thighs, running his fingers gently down Kuroo's torso. The skin quivers beneath his touch.

Despite knowing that this someone is probably dead, despite wanting to take Kuroo completely, he can't help but remember the pain in Kuroo's eyes the last time he attempted to take things further. He doesn't want to put that look back into Kuroo's eyes. It's a feeling that surprises him, but he doesn't question it.

Kuroo sits up on his elbows, blinking blearily at him. "Is something wrong? You usually drink more than that."

"Why do you keep coming back here?" Kenma asks. "Aren't you looking for your someone?"

Kuroo bites his lip. He looks down at his hand, which curls gently into the sheet. "I already found him," he admits.

Kenma tilts his head, waiting.

Kuroo sighs. "He was turned. He . . . didn't remember me. I thought about what you said. About how getting fragments of memory only hurt. I didn't want to do that to him." He shakes his head.

Kenma's chest aches. "So you're hurting yourself, instead of him," he realizes.

"I'll be fine," Kuroo says, sitting up all the way then. He takes hold of Kenma's hips, shifting him forward so he's sitting on his knees. His eyes linger on the line of Kenma's neck, as opposed to his face.

Kenma studies him, the blood seeping from the bite wound, the length of his lashes, the pout of his lower lip. Lifting his hands, Kenma takes either side of Kuroo's face, lifting it in order to look into his eyes. They're sad, always so sad, the dark gold glimmering almost black in the low light.

"You have me now," Kenma says, not sure if that'll help but wanting to at least reassure him that he's not alone.

Kuroo's lips twist in a faint grin. "I do," he says. Carefully, he moves his hand to tuck a strand of hair behind Kenma's ear.

Kenma lets him, doing his best not to shiver at the feeling of his warm fingertips stroking along the shell of his ear. He can't help but lean into the touch, though. Nobody has touched him like this before. So . . . tenderly. Like he's something valuable, precious, instead of a creature to be feared and hated.

He lowers his hands to Kuroo's shoulders, stroking his thumbs along the warm skin there. He watches them, shifting his gaze from Kuroo's eyes. The knot in his stomach twists tighter; the pressure in his head grows. He feels like there's a memory at the entrance to his mind, shoving against the door trying to break inside. But there are too many locks, too many bolts. It won't make it through.

Kenma closes his eyes, feeling them starting to burn. He can't cry again. He won't embarrass himself a second time.

"Kenma." Kuroo says his name like a caress.

Kenma has no idea why he does what he does next; he files it away as one of the most impulsive things he's ever done in his life, never to be repeated.

He leans forward and presses his lips gently against Kuroo's.

If he's ever kissed anyone before, he doesn't remember it. If he's ever been kissed before, he doesn't remember it. He knows this has the potential to be a complete disaster, reminiscent of the first day Kuroo came to the shop. In fact, he figures it's likely for history to repeat itself.

He's not expecting Kuroo's hand to move to the back of his head. He's not expecting Kuroo's other hand to press against the small of his back, drawing him closer. And he's certainly not expecting the deliberate push of Kuroo's mouth back against his. Kuroo kisses him deeply, almost hungrily it seems. Like he'd been waiting a long time to do so.

It clashes with what Kenma knows about him. Why would he kiss Kenma this way, if he just lost his someone? It doesn't feel like a kiss born of a need for distraction. It feels like a kiss born from sorrow, from longing, from a deep desire suddenly springing forth, as if bursting through a gate that'd previously been closed and barred.

Kenma grips his shoulder, his other hand moving to Kuroo's hair to twist into it, holding his head firmly. Kuroo doesn’t try to pull away, however. His lips slide between Kenma's, fitting perfectly. Kenma decides not to think. He turns off his brain, the logic that's telling him something's not quite adding up. He loses himself in the kiss, and when Kuroo nudges his lips with his tongue, he opens for him immediately with a small moan.

Kuroo's tongue is warm and wet, and the taste of him envelops Kenma's senses. Without truly meaning to, he bites down gently. Kuroo hisses softly, but Kenma sucks on the wound, filling his mouth with the sweetness of Kuroo's blood. Kuroo moans, the hand at the small of Kenma's back, starting to push up underneath his shirt, pressing against his cold skin. Kenma shivers, nails digging into Kuroo's shoulder, as he tries to press even closer.

He's delirious, drunk on Kuroo's blood and the smell of him, the feel of him. He wants more and more and _more_.

"Hey!" a sharp voice cuts through the haze, and Kenma finds himself being yanked away from Kuroo and thrown against the hard floor.

"Customers agree to _feed_ you bloodsuckers. They don't consent to anything else." The security guard who grabbed Kenma glowers down at him. "You know the rules."

Kenma's head is spinning. He looks over at Kuroo, but he appears as dazed as Kenma feels. The guard takes Kuroo's arm, helping him to his feet.

"Are you all right, sir?" he asks.

Kuroo blinks, shaking his head to clear it. "I'm fine," he says. He frowns then, looking around the chamber until his eyes fall to Kenma on the floor. "Kenma?"

"He's fine," the guard says brusquely. "Come on, I'll escort you out."

Kuroo resists, pulling back against the guard. Afraid that he might anger the guard and end up hurt, Kenma scrambles to his feet. "Go," he says. "I'm okay."

Kuroo seems reluctant, but he nods and allows the guard to lead him away. Kenma's chest aches, and his body feels empty. He curls his hands into fists, irritated that his time with Kuroo had been cut short.

He's not sure what all that was, exactly, but he does know that while it was happening he hadn't felt that hole in his heart. He hadn't felt incomplete. He knows he could've fought off the guard. With the blood coursing through him, he could've taken Kuroo back by force. But how would Kuroo have felt about that? He doesn't want to treat Kuroo like that. He deserves better.

It's not until a few hours later that he realizes what this means.

_I've fallen for him._

 

 

 

 

 

Kenma wakes abruptly around 05:30. He doesn't know what woke him, but he feels as though something's off. It's only when he glances toward the bed across the room and sees Koushi lying there that he realizes what's wrong.

"You're not going to see Sawamura-san," he says.

Koushi's quiet for a moment before answering. "No."

Kenma decides to leave it at that. It's none of his business, and Sawamura was weird anyway. He must've wanted something from Koushi after all, and Koushi dumped him, like he should have ages ago.

"I know why he seemed so familiar," Koushi says then with a soft sigh.

Kenma waits, turning onto his side to look over at his friend. Koushi turns as well, looking back at Kenma and biting his lip.

"He's my husband."

Shock tingles through Kenma, and he gapes, eyes widening.

Koushi grimaces. "Yeah. I was shocked too. I didn't believe him at first but then he showed me pictures . . . pictures of our wedding. Things started to come back to me, and I . . . I got out of there as quickly as I could."

Kenma frowns slightly. "Why?"

"Because! Daichi is a good man. A very good man. I can't subject him to a life living in the shadows. You know how most people treat us. Despite having helped win the war, our coven is feared and people react poorly to fear. I don't want him to deal with the prejudice and hatred our kind gets. And I don't want him to rework his life around my schedule either. It's not healthy for him."

Kenma has to admit that all makes sense. But still, someone from Koushi's past returned to him. Someone who wants to be a part of his life and who's willing to help Koushi pick up the pieces of his lost memory. It's more than what Kenma has.

He thinks of Kuroo, and the knot inside him tightens.

"I guess now we know why he kept coming around," Kenma muses aloud.

"That's another thing," Koushi admits. "I feel _terrible_. How could I have forgotten my own husband?"

"We all forget," Kenma reminds him.

"I know, I just . . . I feel like I should've _known_. With how I felt around him, how safe and comfortable, with how much he felt like _home_ . . . I feel like I should've known."

Kenma shivers, pulling his blankets up under his chin. Koushi's words spark something within him. Those feelings he described, of feeling safe and comfortable . . . that's how he feels around Kuroo. Kuroo feels like home to Kenma.

Could it be . . . ?

But if it's true, if he is connected to Kuroo in some way, why wouldn't he have said so from the beginning? Why would he lie?

Confusion swirls around in Kenma's brain. Again, he knows he's forgetting something important. But he can't grasp it. It shifts barely into focus only to drift away again. He suddenly finds himself _wanting_ to remember. He _needs_ to remember. Why does Kuroo patch that wound inside of him? Why does Kenma feel this burning need to get closer to him?

Eventually Koushi drifts off, but Kenma's left with jumbled thoughts. He closes his eyes and tries to concentrate. He hears the sound of a volleyball smacking hard against a gym floor. He sees a flash of red and black, the tilt of a grin. He smells apple pie again, always apple pie.

Then something shifts. Clearer images make it through, but they're disjointed, scattered. He sees a war torn Tokyo, like Kuroo described to him. Buildings burnt and abandoned, cars littering the streets. He feels the press of a wooden stake in his hand, bark rough against his palm. He hears snatches of conversation, urgent whispers, hissed orders. It's raining, the sky dark and heavy with clouds.

_"They're coming this way . . ."_

_"There's too many, we can't hold them off . . . !"_

_"We have to go. We have to go . . ."_

_"Yakkun!"_

There's a man, short but compact, with light hair mussed as though he'd run his hand through it hundreds of times. He's pointing, shouting orders. In his other hand he holds a stake similar to the one in Kenma's hand, though longer.

_"Get back! Go! I'll hold them off!"_

_"Yaku-kun!"_ It's Kenma's own voice, shouting. He feels a hand on his arm, pulling him down an alley. He trips over his own feet, stumbles. A strong arm wraps around him; hot breath brushes by his cheek.

 _"He won't let himself get turned."_ It's Kuroo's voice, grim in his ear. _"We can't waste his sacrifice."_

The rest of the scene dissolves, shattering like glass.

When Kenma wakes, there are bloodstains on his cheeks.

 

 

 

 

Everyone notices the change in Koushi. Even three days later, his smiles flicker, his encouraging punches are lackluster. He escorts his customers into his chamber with the efficiency and enthusiasm of a nurse drawing blood. Kenma doesn't know how to comfort him. He knows Koushi thinks he's doing the right thing by avoiding Sawamura, but Kenma can't help but wonder if it's worth the effort and pain.

Even Kuroo recognizes a change in atmosphere.

"It seems . . . gloomy in here today," he says, as he takes off his shirt. The security guards almost didn't let Kuroo go to Kenma. It was only when he assured the men that the kiss had been consensual that they let him through, but Kenma knows he can't risk another incident. (His coven leader had not been too pleased when he found out. Kenma has a mark on his record now. Two more and he'll be taken out of the shop and fed on bags from the blood bank. It's ridiculous, considering Kuroo wanted the kiss as much as he did, but rules are rules.)

"Koushi found out that the man he's been seeing is actually his husband," Kenma says, as he closes the partition.

"Uh, wouldn't he be happy then? He's found his true love. They can be together again," Kuroo says.

Kenma shakes his head. "A lot of people still think like you do. That we're all bloodsuckers and dangerous. That humans shouldn't trust us even though the coven saved everyone from Katsuki. We're all the same monsters to them. You live out there. You should know this."

Kuroo tilts his head. "So he doesn't want to be with his husband because of the backlash they might get?"

Kenma nods. Kuroo frowns. Before he can say anything else, a loud shout echoes through the room.

"SUGA!"

Kenma starts, and even Kuroo jumps slightly. They exchange puzzled looks, and Kenma turns toward the partition, pushing it aside slightly in order to peer out into the aisle.

A man stands at the entry-way, flushed and sweating slightly, like he'd run all the way there. Even so, Kenma can tell he's handsome, with brown eyes and short brown hair. He's wearing a business suit and looks respectable, like he'd carry a briefcase full of folders entitled "Expense Reports." Not exactly the type Kenma would have figured Koushi would go for. Then again, maybe that's what Koushi liked about him.

Koushi steps out from his chamber, blood still staining his lips. He looks dazed, staring down the aisle to where the man stands. "Daichi?"

Kuroo moves to stand beside Kenma, placing his hand on the small of his back, as he peers out from behind the partition above Kenma's head. Kenma feels the warmth of his hand through his shirt and struggles to concentrate on what's happening.

Sawamura Daichi straightens and walks toward Koushi. It's easy to tell that he's nervous. The way his eyes flicker to the side warily, watching the vampires that are peering out curiously just as Kenma and Kuroo are, is obvious. But he keeps his shoulders straight and walks up to stand directly in front of Koushi.

"Please don't run away," he says.

"I won't," Koushi promises, his voice weak.

"I didn't . . . I didn't tell you what I did to scare you or to pressure you into being with me," Daichi says earnestly. "That's your choice, and I want you to choose whatever will make you happy. I told you because I . . . I wanted you to remember. I've enjoyed our time together, but it's felt hollow. A shell of how we once were. Maybe it's selfish, but I couldn't keep things like that anymore. But I also couldn't stand to lose you again. I took a gamble, and I'm sorry. It may have been wrong of me but please, don't leave me."

"I can't live as a human," Koushi says softly, spots of blood appearing in the corners of his eyes. "I'm not human anymore."

"I know," Daichi says gently, reaching up to wipe away the tears with his thumb. "But I don't care. Okay? I don't care. I love you. I searched everywhere for you. I never gave up. I was . . . so happy to see you again. Even like this, I was happy. Because I could hold you again. I could see your smile, hear your laugh. That's all I want."

"That's so disgustingly sweet I think I have cavities," Kuroo murmurs.

"Shut up, like you're any better," Kenma says without thinking.

Kuroo stiffens. "What?"

But Kenma's already turned back to the conversation in front of him.

"I want to be with you," Koushi says softly. "I-I remember. Not everything but . . . I remember enough. About us, about our wedding, our nights together." He tilts his head, grinning faintly. "It's kind of ironic. You _really_ liked my neck."

Daichi flushes, eyes darting about. " _Suga_."

Koushi laughs. It's quiet, but it lights up his face. He steps closer to Daichi, hands moving to take his. "If you don't mind what I am, how I live, if you think you can love a vampire . . . then I'd like us to pick up where we left off. I just don't want you to regret this or grow to resent me."

Daichi shakes his head quickly. "I never could. I still love you, Koushi. And no matter what I always will."

A collective "awwww" sounds from those watching. Daichi flushes red again but keeps his gaze on Koushi. Koushi grins, dazzlingly bright, and throws his arms around Daichi's neck, kissing him soundly. Daichi stumbles back in surprise, but then he's grabbing Koushi and nearly picking him up in his enthusiasm to return the kiss.

Kenma watches, happy for Koushi but feeling that hole in his chest more than ever. Kuroo slowly shuts the partition, giving the two privacy (from them at least).

 _I wonder if Sawamura-san will move in with us._ Kenma's mind wanders, as he turns toward the futon. _Will I have to give up my room?_ He frowns, not liking the sound of that.

"Kenma."

_Or maybe they'll get an apartment nearby. I could visit._

"Kenma, look at me."

Kenma brings himself back to the present, turning his gaze up toward Kuroo quizzically. There's a strange expression on his face, one Kenma can't quite read.

"What would you do, if someone from your past, someone who was that close to you, showed up in your life again wanting to be with you?"

Kenma grows very still. He blinks up at Kuroo, remembering the scene he saw last night. Of Yaku, standing in the rain. Of Kuroo with his arm around him, ushering him away. He remembers Kuroo's story, about his friend that chose to die rather than be turned. When he woke up, he thought his mind might have created a false memory; Kuroo's story having stuck with him somehow. But now he's not so sure. There's something about this angle, with Kuroo standing beside him, jaw tight, expression grim like he's expecting bad news, that rings familiar.

"Would I remember this person?" he asks slowly.

Kuroo shakes his head. "Probably not."

"Would I _want_ to remember them?"

Kuroo's lips twitch. "I'd hope so."

Kenma's tired of dancing around. He wants to know the truth. He wants answers. Maybe he didn't before, but it's too late to turn back now. He has these shards of memory, and he has to do something with them.

"Get to the point, Kuroo," Kenma says shortly, frowning faintly.

Kuroo sighs, running his hand through his hair and then down to the back of his neck. He rests it there, lowering his gaze briefly, before turning his eyes onto Kenma's face.

"You know how I said I'd found my someone?"

Kenma nods.

"I . . . that someone is you, Kenma."

Kenma blinks. His brain starts whirring, frantically trying to fit the pieces of this massive puzzle together. He stands there, staring, as Kuroo continues, shoulders slumping.

"We fought with the resistance, along with some teammates from high school. They got Lev and we . . . banded together for vengeance, I guess. Others joined our team too, a few guys from Fukurodani. Not Bokuto and Akaashi though. They were with a different group. We lost contact with them after—" Catching Kenma's blank gaze and realizing he doesn't recognize those names at all, Kuroo switches gears. "Anyway, we were on a recon mission. We heard there was some bl—vampires holed up in this apartment building. We were just going to see how many there were so we could form a plan of attack. But somehow they knew we were coming. It was an ambush. A couple of them they . . . they grabbed you. I tried to stop them. I-I . . ."

Kuroo stops, his voice breaking. He shakes his head, lowering his arm and holding it out for Kenma to see the scars curving down his arm. "That's when I got these. You were holding onto my arm, your nails . . . when they pulled you away . . ." He stops again, inhaling shakily. "I assumed you'd take the pill. I don't know why you didn't. We went back to look for your body, but it wasn't there. So when the war ended I started looking in these shops, trying to find you. But you didn't know who I was." Kuroo grins crookedly, but there's no mirth in his eyes and it dies quickly.

"Fuck, Kenma, I-I . . . I'm so sorry. I should've fought harder. I should've—"

"Stop."

Kenma's trembling. He's not trying to, but he can feel his fingers shaking. He knows he's staring at Kuroo, but his mind is far away. It's in that apartment building, the ground floor near the front desk. He can feel the cold hands of the vampires on his skin, he can smell blood, taste it, sharp and cold. He remembers fighting, kicking, stabbing. There was dust, so much dust and blood and shrieking, and Kuroo's voice yelling as though from a great distance.

_"Kenma! No, **no! KENMA!** "_

"Kenma?"

He feels a touch on his shoulder, barely brushing it, but he flinches back. He tears himself away from the onslaught of memories, focusing on Kuroo's face. It's broken. The pain is written all over his features, having escaped from the prison of his eyes.

"Kenma, I'm so— _so_ sorry."

Kenma blinks rapidly. The pieces are falling too quickly now, overwhelming him. He sees Kuroo's face in front of him, and then in dozens of other times and places. He sees Kuroo smiling, laughing, sleeping; he sees those eyes full of happiness, worry, bewilderment, and love.

He sees him so close Kenma could count the freckles on his nose, the eyelashes framing his eyes; and then far away, a small figure in the distance. He hears his voice, saying his name, over and over again with different inflections, but the loudest one, the one ringing closest in his ears is spoken softly, a breathy whisper full of adoration, of worship.

_"Kenma."_

Kenma clasps his hands over his ears tightly, squeezing his eyes shut. It's too much. And it _hurts_. His chest aches. It feels like dozens of cracks have splintered across it. He's bleeding. It's leaking out of him, everything is pouring in and leaking out in a dizzying cycle and he wants it to _stop_.

He drops to his knees, screaming out his frustration and pain. He remembers now. He remembers his loss; he remembers being dragged away, despite his best efforts. He remembers being turned. The icy fire of the vampire's blood burning him from the inside out. Changing him.

He didn't take the pill. He remembers why.

He was determined to not die.

He was determined to live, so he could find his way back to Kuroo, his best friend, his lover.

His home.

Only he didn't.

Because he forgot.

There's a commotion above him. He hears the sound of scuffling footsteps, of Kuroo protesting. Kenma lifts his head to see the several of his fellow coven members attempting to drag Kuroo away and Kuroo fighting back, throwing punches and kicks while trying to avoid their fangs. The partitions are on the floor, torn, trampled more with each careless step. The security guards have jumped in, swinging their batons, burning whatever vampire flesh they come in contact with. There's hissing, shouting. The receptionist is rushing forward, waving her cell phone above her head and saying she's called the police.

Kenma sees Yuuji, with his steel-ball piercing, centimeters from sinking his teeth into Kuroo's neck. He sees the silver tip of a baton flashing in the lamp light, swinging toward the coven member. Koushi's at his side with Daichi, his hands resting against Kenma's back.

"Kenma-kun? Kenma, are you okay? Did he hurt you?"

Kenma doesn't pay attention to any of that. He sees Kuroo's knee buckle. He knows he's going to fall, get injured, maybe even killed.

He hisses, fangs bared, and leaps forward.

He barrels through the writhing mass, latching onto Kuroo's waist and removing him right from the center. Despite the lack of fresh blood inside him, he uses all his strength to throw Kuroo over his shoulders in a fireman carry, racing toward the front doors. The receptionist gasps but moves out of the way quickly.

Kenma hurries toward the doors, heedless of the time of day. His only thought is to get Kuroo far away from his attackers as soon as possible. He bursts out into the sunlight and immediately staggers. It's late afternoon, with the sun hanging low in the sky, but it's enough to affect him. He grimaces in annoyance but continues into the street.

"Kenma," Kuroo says groggily. "Kenma, stop."

This time, Kenma ignores him. His eyes scan the streets, as he runs, searching for a place they can hide. If the receptionist called the police and the security guards tell them that a vampire took off with a human, he has no doubt that they'll be swift in trying to locate them. He has to find a place where they'll both be safe, from the sun and from humans.

He can feel his strength waning. Kuroo's growing heavier on his shoulders, but after a couple of blocks Kuroo lifts his free hand to point. "There," he says. "That building has a basement. We used to camp out there during the war."

Kenma swerves toward it, moving as fast as his legs will take him. He can smell Kuroo's blood, so he knows he's been bitten. That would explain the disorientation. Kenma can only hope that he wasn't bitten anywhere vital.

He ducks into the building, feeling almost immediate relief. It's an office building, abandoned, and with Kuroo's direction he finds the stairs to the basement. The darker it gets, the better he feels, though he knows he'll need blood soon to get back to his full strength. He tries to ignore how good Kuroo's blood smells, as he steps off the staircase into a long hallway full of doors.

"Second one on the left," Kuroo murmurs.

Kenma moves toward the door, opening it and kicking it shut behind him. Kuroo reaches for the wall beside the door, flipping a light switch. Nothing happens. Kuroo curses softly.

"The generator must've run out of gas. Either that or someone stole it. There's a couple torches and lanterns near the back though."

Kenma peers across the room. "I see them."

"Oh. Right. I guess your eyes are better than mine, huh?"

Kenma doesn't respond. He looks around and notices several futons scattered about the floor. He steps over to the one in the far right corner. He's not sure why, but it feels right. Carefully, he lays Kuroo down, before turning to grab the torches and lanterns. He brings them over to the futon and lays them out, testing the torches first. The first couple don't turn on, possibly because of dead batteries. The other three do, but the light is yellow. It'll last them a few hours maybe. He flips all but one off, using the light from that one to check the wicks of the lanterns.

"These are still good," he says with a nod, going to find matches then.

Once the lanterns are burning, he sets them up around the futon. He crawls over Kuroo then to sit with his back against the wall so he can watch the door, scanning his body for bite marks with the light from the flashlight.

Kuroo lies on his back, breathing shallowly. "You don't remember this place do you?"

Kenma shakes his head. He finds a bite mark on Kuroo's left calf. Shedding his hoodie and pulling off his shirt, he tears a strip away and uses it to bandage the area. He moves on then and finds another bite on Kuroo's left bicep. He binds that too.

"We stayed here for about a week," Kuroo says softly as Kenma works. "It was far enough away from any vampires to be safe, but close enough so we could hear action if it came our way. We'd been on the run for a while before that. Needed a rest. This was a couple weeks before Yakkun . . ."

He trails off, and Kenma lifts his head. "I remember him," he says. "He was short and angry."

Kuroo barks a short laugh. "Yeah, yeah that describes Yakkun pretty well. He and Lev were close. So after the first wave of attacks started and we lost Lev . . . there was no stopping him. He probably would've tried to take down the entire vampire army himself if we hadn't stepped in."

"He was our friend," Kenma says softly, keeping his eyes on the scratch he found on Kuroo's ribcage. He dabs at it with the remains of his shirt, finding it's not deep enough to warrant a bandage.

"Yeah," Kuroo agrees quietly.

"How long did the war last?" Kenma asks, glancing toward his face.

"Two years," Kuroo replies. "One and a half if you count the time we actually spent fighting. Once the coven appeared they pretty much took care of everything the last six months. Left us to tend to our wounded . . . and dead." He swallows hard.

Kenma sets aside the bloody shirt and lowers Kuroo's over his torso, smoothing it in place with one hand. "How long has it been since the war's been over?"

"You don't know?" Kuroo asks, and he seems surprised.

Kenma shakes his head. "Our coven leader keeps track of the days. I never went to ask. There's this whole process if you want to see him . . . seemed like too much effort."

Kuroo grins crookedly. "You haven't changed a bit."

Kenma pokes his chest. "How long."

"A year," Kuroo admits.

Kenma blinks. That's longer than he'd thought. He guesses he must be twenty-five now. Well, in human years.

"It took me a long time to find you," Kuroo says, and there's a note of apology in his voice. "There's a lot of shops spread out over Tokyo and . . . I didn't even know if you had survived."

"You said there wasn't a body."

"Yeah, but . . . you could've been made into one of them and then . . . killed by the coven."

Kenma frowns slightly, but before he can think of a reply he stiffens. Above ground he can hear the sound of footsteps, men shouting. Kuroo lifts himself up on his elbows.

"What is it?"

Kenma holds up his hand for silence, training his ears harder on the noise. From what he can make out, the police are making their way to the nearest shop, figuring a vampire would try to hide among other vampires. After a few tense minutes, the sounds fade away, and Kenma relaxes.

"The police?" Kuroo guesses.

Kenma nods, guilt twisting his stomach. He's made Kuroo a fugitive. For all the vampires know, Kuroo attacked him. He thinks of the chaos he left behind and wraps his arms tightly around himself. With the peace between vampires and humans so fragile, would this set everything back? Would there be a witch-hunt against his kind? Would there be retribution toward humans from the vampires?

He hopes that Koushi will be able to talk to the coven leader, explain what really happened. Of course, he hadn't seen what happened exactly but . . . he had his own human to protect as well.

"I really fucked things up again, huh?" Kuroo says with a sigh, dropping back down onto the futon.

Kenma shakes his head. "I asked to know."

"I could've lied," Kuroo says, his lips twisting into a faint grin.

Kenma raises an eyebrow. "I would've known."

"I don't doubt that at all."

Safe for now, Kenma allows himself to relax. He leans his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. He ignores the first poke Kuroo gives his arm. At the second though, he lowers his head to frown at him.

"What?"

"You never drank."

"So?"

" _So_ , you just carried me three blocks in the sun. You must be starving."

Kenma shakes his head, not about to drink from Kuroo while he's weak and injured. "I'm fine."

Kuroo gives him a faint smirk. "No, you're not. You're thirsty."

"I'm not thirsty."

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm—" Kenma stops, blinking. That's the routine he's been missing. The easy back and forth banter that he never got from Koushi. And even if he did, he's not sure it would've felt right. This feels right. It feels _familiar_. Kenma nearly feels like crying again.

"Here," Kuroo says gently, sitting up and grabbing the back of his shirt collar to yank it off over his head. He winces slightly at the movement, no doubt registering pain from the fight. His features relax after a moment, and he reaches for Kenma.

"What are you doing?" Kenma asks warily, as he finds himself being lifted and placed onto Kuroo's lap.

"You like this position, don't you?" Kuroo asks, smirking faintly.

Kenma glares, sitting there with his legs straddling Kuroo's lap and feeling acutely embarrassed. He ducks his head, and instead of going directly for Kuroo's neck, he lifts Kuroo's arm, tracing his fingers over the scars. Now that he's looking directly at it, he can see that the width between the scars is the exact width between his fingers.

Kuroo lifts his other hand, tucking Kenma's hair behind his ear. He leans forward and kisses the side of Kenma's face gently.

"You searched for me for a year," Kenma murmurs. "That's a long time."

"I was determined," Kuroo says quietly, his fingers lingering in Kenma's hair. He trails them down to the ends and then tugs lightly on the blond tips.

Kenma lifts his head. "You could've given up at any time. Found someone else. Lived a normal human life."

Kuroo shrugs. "Normal human lives are overrated," he says. "Who's really _normal_ anyway? Besides, I wasn't going to find anyone else like you. You've been my best friend since we were kids. We've been together for as long as I can remember. You really think I wanted to give that up?"

"I'm different now. I don't . . . remember being a kid." Kenma frowns, lowering his gaze to Kuroo's chin to avoid looking into his eyes. "I don't really remember anything."

"What do you remember?" Kuroo asks cautiously.

Kenma lifts his gaze again, meeting Kuroo's. "I remember that I love you," he says, trying his very best to not feel self-conscious at that statement.

Kuroo grins, and it's the first real grin Kenma's seen on his face since they met in the shop almost four months ago. His eyes light up and sparkle, no hint of sadness in them. He gazes back at Kenma so adoringly, that Kenma quickly lifts his hands to cover Kuroo's face.

"Stop looking at me like that."

Kuroo laughs, grabbing Kenma's wrists and pulling his hands away. "Let me be happy, okay? It's been a long time since I've been happy."

He wraps his arms around Kenma then, burying his face in the crook of his neck. Kenma's skin feels shivery, as Kuroo's warm breaths ghosts across it. Slowly, he threads his fingers through Kuroo's hair, tilting his head to kiss the top of it gently. Kuroo's grip tightens.

"Fuck, Kenma," he gasps, his voice thick. "Being so close to you all this time and having you look at me without a spark of recognition; not being able to tell you the truth . . . fuck. It hurt so much."

"I'm sorry," Kenma says, his own voice sounding small in his ears. "I'm sorry I forgot."

Kuroo shakes his head, lifting it then to look at Kenma with watery eyes. "Don't apologize," he says roughly. "It's not your fault. None of what happened is your fault."

Kenma pushes back Kuroo's hair gently, revealing his forehead. Leaning forward, he presses a soft kiss in the center of it. "None of it is your fault either," he murmurs against the warm skin.

When he pulls back, the tears have slipped from Kuroo's eyes. They trail down his cheeks, and Kenma chases them with his lips, kissing them away one by one. The water is salty on his tongue. It reminds him of his hunger, but he ignores that for now. As much as he's suffered the past few hours, Kuroo's suffered for much, much longer.

He wants to take away Kuroo's pain, and all the pain that he's felt the past year and a half. He doesn't know how, but he's willing to try any method.

"Kenma," Kuroo sighs, closing his eyes. There's relief in his voice, mixed with something else. It sounds like longing. Kenma recognizes that emotion easily.

He tilts his head, pressing his lips against Kuroo's in a chaste kiss. Without waiting for Kuroo to respond, he pulls back before kissing him again, and then again. He lets his lips wander over Kuroo's face, his chin, his nose, his eyebrows, the corners of his eyes, his temples, the curve of his cheekbones, the line of his jaw.

Halfway through, Kuroo starts trying to return the kisses. It's awkward given the angle, but he does his best, catching Kenma's skin wherever he can with his warm, wet lips. Kenma can't help but smile, and soon Kuroo is smiling too. He pushes Kenma back after a few minutes, though, shaking his head.

"Nice try, but you need to drink," Kuroo says, trying his best to rearrange his features into a stern look.

Kenma pouts, and Kuroo kisses his bottom lip quickly.

"We'll have plenty of time to do that later," he says. He tilts his head to the side then, offering the side of his neck.

Kenma can't help but feel his thirst rising swiftly. His fangs elongate, and he leans forward, sinking them gently into Kuroo's skin. He closes his eyes and drinks, feeling the warm blood rushing into him, strengthening him. He slides one hand down the back of Kuroo's neck, holding it, stifling a moan of satisfaction.

Kuroo's grip never wavers. He clutches Kenma to his chest, and Kenma can feel the strong, steady beat of his heart against the bare skin of his own chest. In that moment, he forgets about everything else. He forgets about the police chasing them, the stigma against vampires, the likelihood that a vampire/human couple won't be accepted by society.

Kenma pulls away after a couple minutes, not wanting to take too much. Kuroo gives him a lazy smile, reaching up to brush his hair away from his face. He kisses him then, despite the blood, and Kenma clings to him, kissing him back with as much love and desire as he can.

His senses are full of Kuroo. The taste of him, the smell, the feel. He knows now why he felt such a connection to him the second he saw him. Everything makes sense now, and they're finally together again.

That's all that matters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continue on for a bonus chapter with smut! If that's not your thing, then the main story ends here.
> 
> http://shions-heart.tumblr.com/


	2. Chapter 2

It's after midnight. Kuroo's snoring softly beside him, but Kenma can't rest. Not yet. It's still six hours until his normal bedtime. They spent the entire evening talking in between making out (or making out in between talking). As much as Kenma wanted to devour Kuroo (or be devoured), he still had a lot of questions about his past, and their past together.

Kuroo answered all his questions patiently, a fond smile curling his lips, as he played absently with the ends of Kenma's hair. He told him about their high school lives, how they played volleyball together, how Kuroo was sure that Kenma had a crush on him even before he went to university. Kenma felt like denying that, but since he can't remember he figured he was better off just nodding.

They grew closer, over time, Kuroo said. But they danced around their feelings. Even when they got an apartment together, Kuroo admitted he never really knew where they stood. He knew he was in love with Kenma, but Kenma's always been difficult to read and the casual displays of affection they were used to blurred that line between friendship and something more.

For instance, it wasn't uncommon for Kenma to climb into Kuroo's bed after a nightmare. And Kuroo often napped with his head in Kenma's lap. He gave Kenma piggy-back rides, and Kenma usually curled up in Kuroo's lap to play his PSP or DS instead of just taking the couch or the floor. They even held hands sometimes, fingers interlocking carelessly, as they took a walk to the corner store or along the boardwalk near the beach. 

Kenma pointed out that all those should have been indications that he felt something more toward Kuroo than just friendship, seeing that even now he doesn't like people touching him too much. But Kuroo reminded him that this sort of thing had been going on since they were kids. It was stuff that they did without thinking, and so Kuroo was never quite sure whether he could push further, step over the line completely.

Then the attacks occurred.

"It's amazing what a sense of impending doom will do to your libido," Kuroo told him with a wry grin.

Apparently after one close scare, Kenma made the first move. They were with the group at a campsite, Kenma sharing a sleeping bag with Kuroo, when out of nowhere he started kissing his face and neck. Kuroo didn't know what to do at first, but then Kenma began tugging on him, urging him to reciprocate. And so he did. Hands began to wander, and before Kuroo knew it they were jerking each other off, attempting to stay quiet as the others slept.

Things escalated after that. Kenma would randomly kiss him before a mission, and then again after they successfully made it through. Handjobs became blowjobs, and all the while Kuroo still didn't know if this meant they were official or not. But he was afraid of broaching the subject and scaring Kenma off; besides, he was willing to offer comfort if that's all that it was.

"Our actual first time was in this room," Kuroo said. "On this futon actually." He grinned. "I assumed that's why you chose it."

Kenma shook his head. "It just felt like the right one. I didn't know why."

"Well . . . we were doing inventory and discovered we were low on a few supplies. You sent those that weren't on watch to go fetch them. Then you basically jumped me."

Kenma wrinkled his nose. "I did not."

Kuroo laughed. "Yeah, you did."

"I don't believe you."

"You were hot for me," Kuroo said smugly. "You were quite vocal about it too."

"Shut _up_ ," Kenma hissed, burying his face in his hands, while Kuroo laughed louder.

Kenma smiles faintly in the dark, remembering that laugh. He's glad Kuroo can laugh again. He gets the feeling he hasn't done much of that the past year and a half. Sitting up on his elbow, he looks down at Kuroo's face. He has his other arm curled around the pillow, smooshing it against the side of his face. _That explains the hair,_ Kenma thinks.

He reaches up to lightly touch the strip of cloth he wrapped around Kuroo's neck to cover the bite mark. Kuroo stirs, his hand moving quick as lightning to grab Kenma's wrist. Kenma freezes, waiting until Kuroo opens his eyes and blinks the sleep away before speaking.

"It's just me."

Kuroo lowers his gaze to look up at Kenma. He smiles ruefully, releasing him. "Sorry. I'm still a little jumpy."

"You're safe here," Kenma says, reaching up to brush the hair off Kuroo's face. "I won't let anyone touch you."

Kuroo's quiet for a moment. "You know, it used to be my job to protect you."

Kenma tilts his head. "Well, now it's my turn. Is that a problem?"

Kuroo grins faintly. "Not at all." He moves his hand to tuck back Kenma's hair behind his ear, fingers lingering on the side of his face. "Just let me take care of you too when I can?"

Kenma doesn't like what that implies, especially considering Kuroo's his only source of blood right now, but after a moment he nods. Kuroo checks his watch.

"It's past midnight. Shouldn't you be asleep?"

Kenma shakes his head. "I don't usually rest until five," he admits. He bites his lip, doing his best to quell his usual self-conscious nature. "I want to make us official."

Kuroo blinks. "What?"

Kenma sits up. Swinging his leg over Kuroo's hips, he sits on him lightly, placing his hands on Kuroo's bare chest. He tilts an eyebrow, smirking faintly. "You said you were never sure where we stood. I want to fix that."

Kuroo's surprise melts into realization, and he grins crookedly. "Are you proposing to me?" he asks, setting his hands on Kenma's thighs.

Kenma makes a face. "I wouldn't go _that_ far," he says, then stops, reconsidering. Although his current mind says he's only known Kuroo for three and a half months, he knows in his heart that he's known him much longer. And even if he can't quite remember everything of their past, he remembers enough of how he felt during that time to make this decision.

"Maybe," he concedes.

Kuroo sits up, shifting Kenma back to sit on his thighs. He takes Kenma's left hand, kissing his ring finger gently. "I don't have a ring."

"We don’t need one," Kenma says pointedly.

"Still . . . I'll see if I can get us a couple somehow." Kuroo's grin widens then, as he runs his thumb over Kenma's knuckles. "So do I say my vow now? I, Kuroo Tetsurou, take thee, Kozume Kenma—"

Kenma shoves against his chest, pushing him back down on the futon. "You're a sap," he complains.

Kuroo laughs, tugging Kenma down onto his chest. Kenma moves willingly, and Kuroo reaches up with his free hand to cup Kenma's cheek, pulling his face closer in order to kiss him deeply. Kenma returns the kiss, closing his eyes and murmuring softly against Kuroo's lips. His fingers clutch at the mattress of the futon, having no sheet to grab and so pressing down into the bedding.

Slowly, he begins to rotate his hips, creating friction between his and Kuroo's lower halves. Kuroo groans softly in response, lips parting. Kenma immediately slips his tongue inside his mouth, tasting him eagerly. He continues to rock his hips down against Kuroo, and after a moment Kuroo starts chasing him, undulating his hips slightly. Kenma can feel the erection hardening in Kuroo's jeans and pulls back, thinking that was quick. He glances down and then up at Kuroo's face, raising an eyebrow.

"Don't look at me like that," Kuroo complains, a flush rising high on his cheekbones. "I haven't had anyone since you."

Kenma tilts his head, considering that. "I don't think I have either," he admits.

"Really? You didn’t get freaky with any of your coven members?" Kuroo asks curiously.

Kenma wrinkles his nose. " _No._ They're family." He pauses then, realizing he has no idea if they'll even still consider him family after the stunt he pulled. 

"Hey," Kuroo says softly, having sensed the shift in mood. "Want to know a secret?"

Kenma pulls himself back into the present, blinking down at Kuroo. He gives Kenma a tentative grin. "I thought about you every night. I'm not exactly proud of this but, uh, check my pocket."

Curious, Kenma reaches down between them, perhaps intentionally sliding his hand against the bulge in Kuroo's jeans. If he smirks at Kuroo's sharp inhale of breath, he's not going to deny it. He slips his hand into Kuroo's pocket and then pulls out a travel-sized bottle of lubrication. 

Snorting softly, he lifts it up for Kuroo to see. "Seriously?"

"Listen, I've had a thing for you since college, okay? Having you suck my blood was . . . weirdly erotic for me. Sometimes I just needed to jerk one out really quick after I fed you."

"You're disgusting," Kenma says without inflection.

"Who's the one trying to jump me in the middle of the night on an old futon in a dusty basement?" Kuroo asks.

Kenma purses his lips, leaning back. "I can stop."

"No, no, wait," Kuroo says with a soft laugh, grabbing his waist. "Wait. I want this too." He bites his lip, eyes roaming down Kenma's chest slowly before lifting back toward his face. "I can't tell you how much I've missed you," he admits softly.

Kenma relents, unable to stay stubborn when confronted with that warm look in Kuroo's eyes. He leans down again, capturing Kuroo's lips in another deep kiss. Kuroo's hands move to his back, fingers spreading against Kenma's skin, sending tingles of heat through him with each press. Kenma feels a stirring, the heat pooling low in his stomach. He's surprised by the fact that he's not nervous. It feels natural, lying on top of Kuroo like this, kissing him languidly. 

He pricks a fang against Kuroo's bottom lip, sucking on it then, relishing the sweetness of Kuroo's blood. Kuroo moans in response, gripping him tighter. The wound isn't deep enough to spread his venom far. It's just enough to get a taste. He doesn't want either of them drugged up on venom or blood right now. He wants to be aware of it all, of each touch, of each sound. He wants to feel everything as sharp and as real as he can.

He releases the bottle of lube, reaching down between them to unfasten Kuroo's jeans. He pushes the waistbands of both his jeans and his boxers down in order to reach Kuroo's erection. He wraps his hand around the hot skin, stroking upward to gather the pre-cum dripping from the head in his palm. He slides his hand back down then, listening to Kuroo's sharp inhale of breath, that's followed by a low moan.

Kenma moves his lips down Kuroo's neck, kissing around the bandage to his chest. He licks along Kuroo's clavicle, enjoying the saltiness of his skin. He can hear Kuroo's heart pounding wildly and fights a smile. He continues to tug on Kuroo, slow, deliberate strokes, as he makes his way down Kuroo's torso.

He gives long licks, followed by open mouthed kisses and gentle sucks. Kuroo's skin quivers beneath his ministrations, his breathing growing shallower.

"K-Kenma," he gasps softly, one hand moving to bury itself in Kenma's hair. The other is clenched in a fist at his side.

Kenma hums softly against Kuroo's flushed skin, tightening his grip slightly on Kuroo's member in order to create more friction. He's rewarded with another hiss of pleasure from Kuroo, as his hips twitch, rocking upward toward Kenma's hand. Once Kenma's reached Kuroo's hips, he nibbles lightly on his hipbone (this time not hard enough to break the skin), before pulling away completely. He sits back on his heels, tugging off Kuroo's jeans and boxers, before shimming out of his own.

He's still limp, but he's not worried about that right now. He knows it'll probably take physical stimulation to get his body to respond, seeing as he has no heart to pump blood through him. He can deal with that later. For now, he spreads Kuroo's legs, lifting one up over his shoulder in order to give his inner thigh a lick. The salty taste is sharper here, and Kenma can't help but bite down enough to leave a faint mark. 

Kuroo's thighs tremble, and Kenma licks the spot again, before lowering the leg back onto the futon.

"Mine," he says firmly, feeling satisfied that he's staked his claim now.

Kuroo nods, eyes heavy-lidded, as he looks down his prone form at Kenma. "Yours," he agrees. "Always."

Kenma knows he'd be blushing if he could. As it is, he simply ducks his head, allowing his hair to shield his face, as he reaches for the lube. He turns toward Kuroo's jeans then, checking the pockets. He finds the condom in Kuroo's wallet. He isn't sure how old it is, but Kuroo isn't protesting so he guessing it'll work.

He opens it, then hesitates, unsure of the correct way to put it on. Kuroo chuckles softly, taking it from him and rolling it down over himself slowly, biting his lip. Kenma watches closely, filing away the image for later. He won't need help next time.

He then squeezes a generous amount of lube in his hand, spreading it over Kuroo's member. Kuroo shakes his head then, reaching to grab his wrist. Kenma pauses, allowing Kuroo to tug him forward. Kuroo sits up on one elbow, sliding his hand down across Kenma's, slicking his fingers with the leftover lube.

"Gotta prepare yourself first," Kuroo murmurs, reaching back behind Kenma.

Kenma mentally scolds himself for forgetting. He tenses automatically when Kuroo begins to stroke his fingers against his entrance, but Kuroo rests his forehead against Kenma's and grins slightly.

"You did this to yourself our first time," he says softly. "Fuck, you were so hot. You knelt above me and fucked your fingers until I was _throbbing_ . . ."

Kenma bites his lip, a shudder running through him, as Kuroo slowly sinks his index finger past the resistance. He slips in past the first knuckle, then the second. It's a little uncomfortable, and Kenma squirms slightly, getting used to the penetration. He reaches down with his now free hand, wrapping it around himself and giving a few tugs.

Kuroo's eyes widen, and he licks his lips. "You did that too," he says hoarsely. "You told me I had to wait my turn, as you . . . touched yourself and fucked . . . f-fuck." He starts thrusting his finger in and out of Kenma.

Kenma swallows a whimper, feeling the slight stretch but already wanting more. He wants Kuroo inside him. He wants to feel full . . . this isn't full enough. He rocks back on Kuroo's hand, and Kuroo carefully slides a second finger in beside the first. That stretch is a little more painful, and Kenma bites his lip, trembling.

He continues to stroke his own length, feeling his body's reaction to the stimulation finally. He starts to swell, hardening in his hand, as pleasure tingles down his thighs. 

"Shit, I wanted to fuck you so badly," Kuroo mutters, his fingers scissoring inside of Kenma, thrusting faster, deeper. "I wish we'd had more time. I would've fucked you so many places. Hell, you could've fucked me. I wouldn't have minded." He grins shakily.

"Sh-shut up," Kenma moans, ducking his head in embarrassment. Not so much because of Kuroo's crudeness, but because he finds himself _aching_ for that. He wants to fuck and be fucked. To make up for lost time. To wrap himself up in Kuroo over and over and over again.

Kuroo's fingers drive deeper, and Kenma continues to rock back on them. He lets go of his member once it starts to drip onto Kuroo's stomach. He grabs Kuroo's arm then, lifting his head to look at Kuroo with all the lust and longing he feels just then. Kuroo bites his lip, his face flushing red, for all his dirty talk.

"That's enough," Kenma says flatly, drawing Kuroo's fingers out of him. He sits up then, reaching back to grab hold of Kuroo's member. Kuroo flinches at the rough touch, but then he's gripping Kenma's thighs, his head falling back, moaning, as Kenma lowers down onto him.

The stretch is more than the fingers, so Kenma moves cautiously. The lube makes the rubber slick, so Kuroo slides in easily, which is a relief. Once Kenma's settled down onto him, he allows himself a moan of his own. He grabs Kuroo's hand, lacing his fingers through his and gripping tightly, as he starts to rock his hips.

"Fuck, Kenma, _fuck_ ," Kuroo gasps, grimacing at the pleasure.

"Kuro," Kenma whimpers, unable to stop himself as he rocks faster. He closes his eyes and drops his chin, grunting softly, as he uses his other hand to steady himself against Kuroo's chest. He shudders, a feeling of déjà vu washing over him. He's done this before. He can see Kuroo in his memory, his back arching, Kenma's name falling from his lips like it is now.

"Kenma, _Kenma_." Kuroo's other hand grips his hip, encouraging his movements, as his hips rise and fall to meet Kenma's. He thrusts up into him, as Kenma rocks down, and they fall into a rhythm. Kuroo's heels dig into the futon, his chest and face slick with sweat.

Kenma holds fast to Kuroo's hand, the scent of Kuroo sharp in his nose. The musk is strong, but Kenma doesn't care. It's Kuroo. _His_ Kuroo. He's always going to be his. Kenma's never going to let him go again.

Kuroo's thrusts begin to fall out of rhythm, as his desperation to climax grows. Kenma adjusts to accommodate and cries out, as Kuroo's next thrust presses against his prostate. The pleasure spikes through him, sharper than before. His nerves are tingling, heat building as though from static. 

"Kuro, _Kuro._ " He's whimpering again, but he can't stop. He mewls, clawing at Kuroo's chest, his own desperation rising.

He rocks his hips faster, shoving himself down on Kuroo each time Kuroo thrusts up. He hits that same spot again and again, and Kenma begins to tremble as the pleasure grows too hot, too bright. He cries out again, his body tensing, a shudder running down his spine, as he comes. Through the haze of pleasure, he's vaguely aware of Kuroo finishing as well, his hips stuttering and then collapsing back on the futon.

Kenma groans softly, rolling off Kuroo to lie beside him, his thighs still twitching in aftershocks. Kuroo's panting hard beside him, but after a moment he turns onto his side, removing the condom and tying it off. Kenma doesn't know where he tosses it, and he doesn't want to know. He lays still, eyes closed, trying to gather his bearings, as the overwhelming heat begins to fade.

After a moment, he feels warm fingers brushing back his hair from his face. "Hey."

Kenma opens his eyes, looking up at Kuroo leaning over him. Kuroo gives him a crooked smile.

"You called me Kuro," he says breathlessly.

"It just . . . felt right," Kenma admits.

"So was that the consummation?" Kuroo asks next. "Is this ratty old futon our marriage bed?" He wiggles his eyebrows.

Kenma rolls his eyes and shoves at his chest, knocking him over onto the futon next to him. Kuroo laughs but then snakes his arm around Kenma's waist and pulls him close. Kenma turns onto his side, pressing his back against Kuroo's chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart as it slowly begins to return to normal.

Kuroo burrows his nose into Kenma's hair with a hefty sigh. "Thank you," he says softly.

Kenma frowns faintly, and he shifts, turning around beneath Kuroo's arm to look at his face. Kuroo smiles faintly.

"Thank you for claiming me," he reiterates, moving his hand to tuck Kenma's hair behind his ear tenderly. "I'd almost lost all hope until you grabbed my wrist and pulled me into that room with you."

Kenma bites his lip, reaching up to circle his arm around Kuroo's waist. He lifts his leg over Kuroo's thigh as well, wrapping himself around him as best he can. He presses his forehead against Kuroo's then, shaking his head slightly.

"I'm the one who should be saying thank you," he murmurs softly. "You never gave up on me."

"I never could. I love you, Kenma."

Kuroo's voice shakes faintly, as he says it, and Kenma holds him tighter.

"I love you too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://shions-heart.tumblr.com/


End file.
